


Widow's Weeds - Hell Hath No Fury

by BardicRaven



Series: Arrow - Widow's Weeds [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s03e09 The Climb, Gen, Hacking, Irritated!Author-fic, Malcolm Merlyn - offstage, Oliver Queen - offstage, Ray Palmer - minor role
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2781941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never, EVER piss off a hacker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Widow's Weeds - Hell Hath No Fury

**Author's Note:**

> ##### This came to me when I was thinking about another story, as often happens. and takes place just after S3E9 "The Climb".
> 
>  
> 
>     _So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer_  
>      _With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her_  
>      _Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands_  
>      _To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands._
> 
> ##### -Rudyard Kipling, The Female of the Species

***********

Felicity knew the instant Oliver's promise became a lie.

She didn't cry out, she didn't scream her anguish to the world, she didn't do any of the things that she wanted to do.

A single, solitary tear trickling down her cheek was all she allowed herself.

“I'm sorry. I have to go.” Curious looks followed her, but she ignored them all. 

She fled for the sanctuary of her apartment, only stopping to max out her credit card on a wardrobe she hadn't worn in years. She'd stayed away from black clothing almost superstitiously after she gave up the Goth-hacker's life.

But now... widow's weeds, for all she'd never had the chance to say her vows.

And now she never would.

 

***********

Palmer made the mistake, once, of jokingly asking her 'Who died?' after her second week of wearing nothing but mourning black.

She flinched as if he'd slapped her. 'A friend,' was all she'd say. And she refused his offer to listen.

Listening wouldn't change anything.

Nothing would.

All steel, all business now. No joy. No light. She went through her days because she had to, not because she took any delight in them.

But there was one thing left which gave her a great deal of pleasure.

She'd come to her old station in the middle of the night, memories echoing in the silence, sit in the chair that had been her second home for so long, and take savage glee in hunting down and freezing every bank-account that she could find belonging to either a member of the League or to Malcolm Merlyn.

After all, money makes the world go 'round. Starve a body and it _dies_.

None of it would bring Oliver back, of course. She knew that.

But if she could not have him, she would at least have this vengeance in his name.

Hell hath no fury, they say, and she was both woman and hacker in an age when silicon rules the world.

And she would make them pay.


End file.
